


10 Lords a-Leaping

by PoeFaraday



Series: 12 Days of Musketeermas [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, F/M, Family Drama, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:05:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2775773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeFaraday/pseuds/PoeFaraday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas Eve at la Fère, and Olivier's family tradition is for all the couples married in the past year to perform a dance. What will they say when he brings out his bride - the woman who has practically scandalised their family - to join the dance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	10 Lords a-Leaping

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo
> 
> I'm a bit in love with this fic? I love pre-fallout things, and hopefully I'll be able to elaborate on this theme more later on!

La Fère was abuzz with holiday cheer, though Olivier had to admit, at least some of it could be attributed to the fact that his father’s wine cellar had been flowing for nearly six hours already, and there was no sign of the tidewaters ebbing. Friends and relations from every corner of France filled the house, and despite his tutelage, he had lost track of many of their names. All were dressed in their finery, deep crimson damasks and cream-white brocade swirling through the halls of the noble house. The string quartet his parents had hired created minuets and sarabandes that hung like tinsel over the crowd.

“I can’t go down there,” Anne said, chewing her lip, clutching her arms over her pine-green dress. She had kicked off her fine silk shoes and stood in her stockinged feet on the floor of the bedroom she shared with Olivier, her face pulled tight with anxiety.

Olivier approached her, smiling gently and taking her hands, gently prying her thin fingers from her arms.

“It’ll be alright. I won’t let them harm you. I want them to see how much I love you, how much you mean to me,” he told her, two sets of pale green eyes meeting. “If we continue to hide, how can we truly be man and wife?”

Anne pressed her crimson lips into a thin line, turning her gaze away from him. “I want to be able to be free with you, but… are you certain this is the best way?”

Olivier gave her a charming smile, shrugging his shoulders, shifting the champagne-colored silk of his doublet. “We won’t know until we try. My family dances the Mariée every year - it would be a shame to miss out on our chance to participate.”

After a long moment, Anne turned away from the mirror. She went over to slip her feet back into her shoes. A moment later, she stands back in front of Olivier, taking his hands.

“As long as you’re certain this is what you want,” she insisted, looking up into his soft green eyes.

The corner of his mouth tugged up in a smile and he bent his head to kiss her. “Absolutely. Why shouldn’t we be as happy as the rest of them?”

Minutes later, they walked down the grand staircase, hand in hand, into the ballroom. The string quartet continued to play, but a wave of silence fell through the crowd as everyone turned to watch. Scandalized murmurs raced through the assembly, and ladies held up their fans to shield their words from Olivier and his wife. Olivier, for his part, held his head high, unfaltering as he led Anne onto the dance floor, her silky green skirts flourishing. Olivier noted his brother standing in the corner, an unreadable look on his handsome young features.

“The Mariée,” Olivier instructs the quartet in a clear voice, his pride unhindered by the dubious crowd.

The quartet nod and take up their bows, and once Olivier and Anne are in place, facing each other in the center of the dance floor, the music begins.

The strain is light and elegant, full of promise and good cheer. Olivier and Anne perform the steps as they’d practiced them in their bedroom, though now there is no nervous blushing, no self-conscious correction of a missed step. There is only the two of them, and they dance with such confidence that ever so slowly, others begin to join them, and three-quarters of the way through the song, all but a few of the couples that had been married in the past year have joined the dance. They spin and bow, heels clicking against the wooden floor of the ballroom, skirts swishing through the air as the ladies turn. The couples laugh with each other, all of them focused on sharing this tradition with their new spouse, reveling in the promise that Christmas brings.

When the quartet has finished, the couples part, clapping and laughing breathlessly, and there, in front of all of Olivier’s family, Anne takes his hands, pulls him close, and kisses him deeply. The party continues, gifts and small trinkets being passed among the crowd after they’ve gathered around the enormous Christmas tree that dominates the front parlor. Drinks are shared, and cups are filled again. Olivier and Anne kiss and kiss in front of his family, and by the end of the evening, their confidence in themselves has turned even the sharpest tongue to laughter and joviality.

And when the last guest has finally gone, and they have retired to their bed for the night, Olivier and Anne share yet another kiss, wish each other a merry Christmas eve, and drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.


End file.
